Madder than them all
by Megamindv2
Summary: It is 281 AC and a modern man finds himself transported into the body of none other than his grace, King Aerys Targaryen, the second of his name.
1. FUBAR

**Madder Than Them All (ASOIAF/SI)**

My eyes squinted to the suddenly blinding white. Instead of the comfy bed I had slept on the day before, I found myself on a sturdy brown chair. Before I could comprehend what was happening, a silhouette approached me in the distance, slowly revealing it to be a tall dark man with a regal suit woven around him. Out of nowhere, another chair materialized in front of me and with a few regal motions, the man sat down, the corners of his lips stretching out in an eerily perfect smile, the sort an unwelcome door salesman would always have ready for his clients. He had a clipboard in his hand; the other crept into his front pocket to emerge with a pen. He removed the cap, shuffled the papers a bit before looking at me with an expectant look.

"W-w- wha…" was all my slack jawed face could manage to utter, as I sat there dumbstruck.

The man took a sigh, as if this was routine for him, looked off into the space and muttered something indiscernible before looking back at me, "How were your dreams last night?"

"…."

"Did you dream about the Planet-243 last night?"

Gathering my breath, I searched for a way out of this kakfka-esque position I was suddenly put in before pursuing my lips and letting out, "I have no idea what you're talking about, Sir."

The man leaned back in his chair, bored, "Do you dream about Planetos often? constant daydreams and the like?"

A sudden minor pang of embarrassment spread over me, it was a personal matter and moreover I did not see how it was related to the predicament I was in. Perhaps the man saw my which is why he went on to explain this weird theory.

"When you immerse yourself far too much in thoughts about other dimensions, sometimes they create divergent timelines which remain lost lest inserted a character that could "steer" that alternate world to keep those worlds steady. The Union believes several such dimensions ruin the balance of the Universe, creating unnecessary portals."

"I didn't understand a word."

The man let out another patronizing sigh before looking at his watch and tsking,"I am sorry, but the time allotted for your queries has come to an end. Prepare yourself for arrival and best of luck."

He stood up and made to leave but I grabbed at his suit, at which the man's face coiled in disgust, he swapped my hand away, "Get away, you damned '**bat**'", before seeming to be surprised at his outburst. The salesman's smile came on again, his hands went behind his back and he spoke in a pseudo-cheery tone, "Mister, you shall soon arrive in Westeros in Planetosi year 281, farewell and good luck."

Before I could lament and plead to him my body seemed to be forcibly put into unconsciousness.

Then I woke up in a place more savage than hell, and it all begun.

**281 AC, The Red Keep.**

The light slowly darkened into deep black darkness. I opened my eyes and immediately knew I wasn't in the place I had gone to sleep in. the room I woke up to was elegantly designed, red & black panels with images of three headed dragons, dominated the walls. My body felt weaker than before, my nails were hideously overgrown, and I don't think I had seen nails so long in my previous life. The beard that extended from my chin to my waist was equally hideous. Consciously, I felt a warm body next to me, fast asleep. She was quite young, black of hair and pale of skin, however she had scratch marks all over her body and a bluish bruise near the shoulder edges. On the bed she was coiled in a fetal position afraid of something, even in sleep.

Wanting to get a hold over the current situation, I stood up to walk over to a nearby mirror, as I got closer I realized the device was rather primitive, blurry around the edges with a slightly smoky reflection which made me peek closer to get a closer look at myself. I wish I hadn't. The man who looked through seemed _**mad. **_Matted hair coiled around his head in a mess of appearance, the clothes were not tattered but neither were they clean, however the most distinctive feature on the frail man's face that stared through was a pair of purple orbs that he had for eyes, they had a crazy glint to them, like something out of a horror flick. I was genuinely scared of the man looking at me.

You see the human brain is a strange thing, in that clusterfuck of events that had happened since I had first woke up, my mind was slow to realize things, things such as what is shown in he mirror is nothing more than what is front of it. Then I looked around once again at the room, red and black draperies, dragon sigils and the brutalized woman by the bed and back to the reflection, the dawning realization made me retch in disgust. Still I tried to dismiss it all as a really bad dream, subsequent bouts of pinching only drew me weird looks from the girl in the bed who had just woken up and who was now staring fearfully at me. My efforts at drawing out a helpful smile only drew a small yelp from her as she frantically stood up, collected her clothes and rushed out the door. Through the doorway a heavily built man in white armour turned a neutral gaze to me, something on my face made him suspect not everything is alright. He came in and removed his helmet, showing a grizzled middle aged man, with specks of white in his brown hair. The man held a commanding presence. He inquired, "Your Grace, does something trouble you."

With the dawning realization of horror rushing him, the strongest man in the Seven Kingdoms let out a scream of anguish before collapsing into darkness, leaving a very confused and suddenly alarmed man standing.

-  
A/N- An Aerys SI set in 281 AC, will include somewhat of an industrial revolution but not so much as to seem unrealistic. Updates will be released every week. Please review and thank you for reading! Till next time.


	2. The Loyal Knight

**THE LOYAL KNIGHT**

He woke up. It was time for his shift. Ser Barristan may knock on the door anytime signaling the end of his duty for the day. Sleep these past few days had a calm sense to it, far calmer than the past few years-

_**'A woman screeched in agony as the man on top of her roughly savaged her. She looked him the eyes, her purple shining eyes pleading with him for help. Every muscle of his body urged him to help her. How could he not? He had watched the woman since she was but a young one, watched her grow into a queen and now he watched her getting rava-'**_

Gerold rushed for the desk adjacent to the bed, reaching out for something to give him respite, he opened the first drawer, only to find letters from relatives, irritated he shuffled through some more drawers before finding the skin he wanted, corking the top, he took a long gulp of the Arbor Gold, it worked, the memories stopped. For now. He couldn't stop though, he had a duty. He rose up to go through his daily routine, pulling on the breastplate, the pauldron, the vambraces and the gauntlets, all custom made and white enameled. His squire had washed up the cloak clean & pure white, the telltale sign of a white cloak, Gerold clasped it around the shoulder, feeling a new sense of duty engulfing him. He remembered the day he was accepted into the Order, he had been so proud, serving Good King Aegon & then his son Jaehereys and now his Grandson, perhaps he would live long enough to serve Rhaegar too. It would be the highest honor serving so many monarchs, most of them good, others -

_**'The smell of charred burning flesh clogged up the air, flesh of innocents disintegrating into ash as the king laughed and laughed and the rest of the court remained numb, unable to move, bound by either duty or raw fear' -**_

Behind the closed doors, it ashamed Gerold to assume to judge his king, how many times had he clasped his brother's shoulders, reigniting their resolve whenever they had doubted the king. 'Our duty is not to ask why, Our duty is simply to serve and die.' But it was always easier to judge the king when the doors had closed, the cloak was off and the wineskin was in hand & then, in those dark hours Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander of The Kingsguard sometimes had the gall to hate the king. It was not fair to Aerys, he was not always such, he had been an harmless, if not a clever young king. But then came Duskendale and everything had changed.

Gerold got up with a tired sigh, he paused a moment before he clasped the door and then opened it. A different man came out though, the weak old craven stayed inside, out came Ser Gerold Hightower, the Lord Commander of The Kingsguard. His duty had begun, nodding at Ser Barristan's parting salute, Ser Gerold made his way to the King's Solar where his duty would begin today.

He walked down the Red keep, noting down the sudden changes that had occurred the day the King fainted. Aerys changed, which was strange because men didn't change overnight, not even the most deranged ones.

The sudden noise of faint laughter stole his attention as it echoed through the courtyard, his eyes passed over the scene, a gaggle of children, mostly sons and daughters of the Keep servants being taught numbers and letters by acolytes & minor maesters although the stress of handling so many children was getting on their nerves which their clearly exhausted faces gave away. A strange decision of the King's, only one of the few to have happened since that fateful day & grumbled at by most of the highborn in the Court. But the King was uncharacteristically rigid in his decision to enforce 'education' to one and all. Smallfolk adults were not spared either, word was sent out throughout the city through cries, announcing special jobs to those who could read, write & were good at numbers which led to a sudden increase in attendance in increasingly frequent public teachings that the King had ordered of the masters at the Keep. It was emanating a slowly growing discontent among the brothers of the citadel but Aerys would insist "it was all for the good."

Perhaps the most surprising change in Aerys was seen by the Court immediately after that strange night, and more alarmingly by the Hand Lord Tywin as Aerys came up to the Throne Room cleanly shaven, cut and clothed in finery for the first time in ages. His Grace begun attending nearly each and every small council meet, constantly overruling Lord Tywin's judgements which was perhaps the only behavior that had not changed. With Queen Rhaella he was surprisingly distant, awkward even, nothing of the sort had happened between them to give Gerold and his knightly vows a humiliating nightmare, no more where there screams of horror and anguish coming from the queen's bedchamber. With Viserys, he was playful, probably confusing the boy who was used to his father's absence in his life.

Gerold's pondering came to an abrupt end as he came upon the now closed throne room to see the Master of Whisperer, the Essosi eunuch Varys furiously whispering in the King's ears. Something irked him deep inside, the Spider was a bad influence, always had been, years of finding and investigating threats on the Royal family had made Gerold have a keen instinct to know something was simply wrong about the foreigner. His past didn't add up, his background was unclear, no family no relations, nothing. His grace had appointed him merely on the basis of a few well whispered rumours and became overly dependent on him.

When Varys finished his report and exited the room, His grace summoned Ser Gerold to him. Nothing was said for quite a while, and then the king let out a tired sigh.

"Your Grace?", asked Ser Gerold in questioning worry.

"What do I say Ser? My own men, my own family will bring war to this realm and it's people if they are allowed to do as they want."

"I sent out Varys on a mission to gain reports on the Whent's finances, they never had the financial stability to hold something of the stature of the upcoming tourney, it was clear that someone was sponsoring Lord Walter and using the tourney as a front for their own purposes, at first I had faintly suspected it was Tywin, before Varys mentioned Ser Oswell's visit to Harrenhal a moon before the tourney, a few days later, unprecedented and undocumented wealth flowed into the Harrenhal coffers, strangely relating to a minor decline in our treasury holdings, Tywin.. He knew about this but never told me, th-the perpetrator behind the Tourney', the King reddened, 'is none other than my blasted son. Using it as a front for rebelling against me! "

A sudden chill went through Ser Gerold's spine, _'Surely not, he had heard faint whisperings about discontent from the Prince, but something on this scale, it was surely impossible?'_, And that was nothing to speak of Ser Oswell's alleged apparent treason.

_"Are you loyal to me Gerold?"_

The King's sudden desperate whisper resonated through the Knight.

He might have disliked Aerys sometimes but duty was out of the question, In the blink of eye he was down on a knee and his sword on the floor, "My life, my sword and my duty has always been yours, Your Grace. Command me and I shall carry out your will."

Aerys smiled briefly before cautioning, "What we are about to embark on would have to be carried out carefully, a wrong step here and there could very result in civil war, the question is, are you ready to do it, Ser ?"  
_  
"Aye, Your Grace."_

-


	3. A CALM BEFORE THE STORM

**A CALM BEFORE THE STORM**

The carriage creaked to a stop. While not nearly as monstrous as Cersei's extravagant wheelhouse in canon, it was still quite ridiculous by my modern tastes.

"We will halt here for the night, your Grace," intoned Gerold.

'Here', was a small village at the foot of the God's Eye, it's meager residents stood outside their home in awe, perhaps the result of seeing royalty for the first and only time of their lives. At the sight of me every one of them kneeled, 'm'graces' galore. To say I was uncomfortable was an understatement, back in the world I came from, I was reclusive and hated being the center of a crowd's attention. Even then I managed to utter a quiet but firm command for them to be at ease, yet I could see many of them were stiff, some looking at me with mouths agape, some with barely restrained admiration while others refused to look at all, keeping their heads bowed and their gazes downwards.

The little commotion at the front brought me out of my pondering, as a little squeak of a child ran ahead, her most likely parents yelling behind her in shock, while a few guardsmen made for their hilts before I waved them away, after all what was there to be afraid of a child? Certainly not one as innocuous as this little bundle, who had a bunch of flowers on her grasp.

"Roses for m'grace," the child exclaimed, displaying a bright half toothed smile and I must admit, since coming here, in this cruel place, that was the first time I had smile nearly as wide as I did. For some reason this blind admiration of the smallfolk in my brief appearance had warmed my heart.

Almost instinctively, I lifted the child up in my arms and felt my men becoming uneasy behind me, after all why wouldn't they, having seen nothing of me but the raving madman that would burn children even, for the gravest crime of petty pick-pocketing. But I did nothing to this child, carrying it to its parent, who looked strangely terrified. I faintly sensed Ser Gerold's mystified gaze behind my back, as if trying to decipher this sudden enigma of a man, whether it was true or was it all an act? Another facet of his liege's madness? A continuing, dedicated ill-humored farce that I would drop anytime soon.

"A-a thousand apologies, y'grace, the child doesn't understand, I-I beg yer forgiveness," the father said, utterly afraid.

"Forgiveness? For what, my goodman?" I said more to myself than the man, completely focused on the delightful unaware bundle in my hands.

Confused silence greeted me back.

"What is she named?"

"A-ana, yer grace," the as of now silent mother answered, the child perked up on hearing her voice.

"Ana…" I mumbled to myself, before finally handing her over to her relieved parents, "Little Ana is a delight my lady, treasure her."

After that brief encounter, the admiration may have as well doubled, making me further uncomfortable with the attention, I signaled the kingsguard to arrange for my dinner, an excuse to get away.

We were a couple of days away from Harrenhal, carefully avoiding any holdfasts, towns and cities, only stopping in small villages, it's inhabitants notified only a while before, to ensure that by the time word spread, we may as well would have reached our destination. The party was also organised with an emphasis on not just speed but also ample protection, besides the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, there were half a dozen keep guards, near the same servants and staff along with one carriage, for I had seldom ever been on a horse and Aerys's memories were non-existent.

As I pondered over the countless plots and plans I had constructed in my mind for the inevitable gate-crashing of the tourney, I couldn't help but draw a distracted gaze towards the lack of sizable cattle in the shanties of the villagers, and their somewhat starving gazes. This was a near constant for us, the nearer we were getting to the tourney, which confused me. From what I could relate from canon memory, the Riverlands were a well to do region, surely the people must have no strains over food?

My query was answered by a hesitant villager, an answer that I should've probably guessed as it seemed more and more obvious as the man explained, as to where the livestock went? they went to the grand 'feasts' of the tourney, where they would soon be gorged upon by uncaring nobles. Most of these people will have never known that some of them were valued lesser than my steed besides me. That they were but sheep for the Lords of Westeros to abuse endlessly for their own gain, nothing but pawns in the wheels of power. Most likely not, I guessed. What could they change even? As devoid of power as they were.

By the time morning came and we prepared to leave, we were bade goodbye by the loud cheers and waves of the grateful villagers, for it was I that parted with half of our remaining foodstuffs. After all I could do without meat and pies for a couple of days, for these villagers though, it was a week's worth of carefully rationed food.

Sitting in the carriage on the way back, I reflected on my actions, for I didn't believe myself to be a great reformer, the great fabled savior of Westeros who would bring industrial revolution, banking & commerce, aviation! gunpowder! Unimaginable wealth and peace to the commons of Westeros, hells I didn't even know how most of it functioned, at worst it all could go very very wrong pretty quickly but I couldn't ignore it either could I?

If I had the power to bring about just the meager amount of change, for the better of these people, if I had the power to change their lives for the better and yet I didn't, then it was on my head. And without knowing I had tried, I'm afraid I may never live peacefully in this world. And I had to remember all this for the madness to come may as well make me as uncaring as the rest of Westeros.


	4. How to Make an Entry (for dummies)

_HOW TO MAKE AN ENTRY_

_(FOR DUMMIES)_

JON CONNINGTON

The Hall of a Hundred Hearths was packed to the brim with lot from all over Westeros, and some from Essos itself, come to think of it, he wondered_, 'never before have I seen so many sigils in one place.'_

To be fair it still bewildered him quite much to see Rhaegar's machinations bear fruit so successfully. _'The largest tourney Westeros has ever seen, a grand event with a greater purpose'_, his prince had murmured that fateful night with Arthur present, it was the day they had sworn to the prince to bring about into the real the future king's dream of Westeros, a golden age where it prospered out of his tyrant father's shadow, an age that Jon hoped to share as Rhaegar's right hand, looking down on those who judged him unworthy of his place, as the soon to be second most powerful man in the Kingdom.

Thus, when the object of his affection came out of Lord Whent's solar in thinly veiled frustration, he sat up straighter in his chair, patiently waiting for his prince to divulge the events. After greeting his lady wife Elia and patting his daughter Rhaenys on the head affectionately, the Prince picked up his lute before heading Jon's way on the far end of the carefully positioned table. Through picking the lazy notes on his instrument, the prince seemed to calm himself, preparing for a performance in front of everyone soon no doubt. He had told them specifically that not only Rhaegar himself but Jon and Arthur too had to make themselves seen and thought well of in these ten days of the Tourney, for nonetheless some of the cannier men must have realized the 'shadow' sponsor of the event. Lord Whent didn't have the wealth to fund the tourney for half a day even, but the thought of presenting his house and sons to the whole of Westeros was a sight he was eager to see, as ambitious as his uncle Ser Oswell had rightly mentioned. Jon and Ser Arthur were seen as the Prince's men in turn and their showing of worth was as important as the Prince's and while Arthur showed that on the tourney fields with his skill in arms, Jon showed it in the field of courtly intrigue, subtly helping his Liege bring men to their cause and his Prince showed it on both field and court, a feat only a man gallant he could perform.

His thoughts were interrupted by Rhaegar's deeply melodious voice lamenting, "Lord Whent won't support us"- he let out an explosive breath- "not beyond the token support of words he gave at the time of Ser Oswell handing out the funds a year ago. I almost feel duped. Almost"

Jon knew to fan his Prince's anger with his own opinions of cowardly Lord Walter would only serve to let the man explode in rage sometime later, granted the prince rarely raged, the rare times he did show frustrations with _'people refusing to let him 'help' the realm' _made Jon shudder for it reminded only barely, Rhaegar's sire's own fury. He tried not the think of Rhaegar having the famed Targaryen madness, surely his liege would never wound up in his father's steps. So he tried to console the Prince.

"Lord Whent has been incredibly magnanimous by sanctioning this tourney, your grace. Very few Lords would condone veiled regicide, even for a hundred thousand gold dragons," he added contemptuously at the end, failing to hide his opinions about this giant of an investment. Jon trusted Rhaegar, of course, but he was always wary of spending large sums on big risks, as most men would. Jon was a rational man with a good calculating head on his shoulders.

His Prince smirked softly in reply, an action that brought warm feelings to the depths of his body, "You still doubt this venture Jon? although I will grant you the wariness regarding it, it is a deep hole in our treasury that I can't recover, still I would have my loyal men, with Whent on my side or not, he is only a prop after all in the grand scheme of things, what I truly need is this budding alliance of Stark, Tully, Arryn and Baratheon. My father may turn a blind eye to their dealings, secure in his false sense of being protected, but I see them for what they are, a northern bloc of power, united by marriage and fostering's. Lord Brandon Stark to Lady Catelyn Tully, the second son sent off to the Vale to establish relationships with the Valemen and Lord Arryn's cunning maneuvering of adding cousin Robert to the bunch and then that masterstroke of a move to betroth Lady Lyanna to my cousin, a larger alliance I have never seen in any of those histories I read, their objectives I know naught yet I must have them, them better than Lord Tywin ever grasping for more power."

Jon's mind set alight with the possibilities as Rhaegar begin warming up with _Jenny's song_ "What could we give the likes of Lord Tully other than the marriages he seeks for his brood, his grace is married already and lord trout has wealth aplenty that no bribes would suffice him."

Rhaegar didn't reply immediately, although he did miss a note at hearing Jon's observation. Jon knew presenting the likes of princes and kings with more problems wasn't the way to truly advise them, so he tried another path, "Perhaps we could enquire into the Vale for eligible ladies for little prince Viserys." Lord Arryn would be helplessly reduced to seeing one of his vassals receive royal patronage, an enquiry would be enough though to bring Lord Arryn an opportunity to be more willing to come to his grace's side, groveling to wonder what wrong he'd done that his liege would raise his subordinates to a level nearly equal as him.

The prince though snorted openly at his suggestion, prompting a few tables to look at them in curiosity, no doubt envying Jon his position at the Prince's side, he resisted the urge to preen at the attention.

"Viserys deserves a better consort than anything the Vale may scrounge up for him, I will make sure of it. Perhaps even Lady Cersei to finally placate the Old Lion?"

'There goes another path', Jon sighed, "Your grace's cousins the Baratheons then? what could we offer them that would have them join our cause."

"The Baratheons are my cousins by blood, Robert wouldn't betray me, he is a lout and a whoremonger, not the kind of man I like to associate with, but he is not a betrayer to blood, yes…. that much he is not…" the lute plucked on ahead, the jaunty tunes of the Bear and the Maiden Fair contrasting against Rhaegar's natural quiet disposition.

Jon wondered what would happen if Lord Robert did betray his prince, would the Conningtons have a chance to rise in place? An attractive thought, although one he would keep that thought deep inside lest his prince think him a man seeking his company for nothing other than a chance of personal gain. His personal feelings aside, Jon worried greatly of their future plans, if the prince didn't have a scheme to give the Lord's Paramount what would he possibly give them that would make them Rhaegar's men? A coil of doubt spread through him and yet again the comparisons of Rhaegar and his father cropped up. '_The apple didn't fall far from the tree'_, a treacherous voice squealed deep from the recesses from his mind, although he was quick to squash it down. He was Rhaegar's man, it wouldn't do him good to think bad of his Prince, perhaps he was simply secretive of his plans, perhaps-

Rhaegar interrupted his thoughts with a somber low tone, "The Starks though, I do have plans for them Jon, that I do, it must be done after all, Elia can't provide me more heads for the prophecy…." He muttered ahead looking pointedly at Lady Lyanna Stark, a strange gaze for the prince had never bothered mentioning the barbarians before. The Starks sat at the far end of the circular arrangement by regions of the land at the feast tables. The lady quite noticeably annoyed by the attentions of her betrothed as she smiled at him quite forcefully as he laughed along with Eddard stark at a jape.

"The Starks, your grace?", Jon inquired after his prince's ramblings,

Why could Rhaegar possibly mention that plain thin girl, the Starks had nothing to give from that frozen wastelands of theirs, nothing valuable at the very least other than fighting men and the occasional need for imported ice at the feasts of rich lords, and yet Rhaegar deigned not to give a proper answer, instead shrugging his worries off with an easy smile and going back to his music. A few moments later as the food came in and the smell of boar reached him, he too was shrugging off the matter of the Starks.

As the feast neared to an end, Rhaegar ascended to a raised stage at one end of the hall, a natural shush rising in the hall. Jon grinned, his prince had that effect on crowds, they knew when a better had graced them with his presence. The notes started as Rhaegar weaved a story from his song, a sad one albeit although one that had even hard men as Lord Tarly watch in silence with nary a word of judgement but rather grudging admiration. Jon looked around the hall to see not a lady had unshed tears, even the half-wildling Stark daughter couldn't help but cry at the beauty of his Prince's word. Magic woven through words indeed. When the words came to a halt, a noticeable lull could be heard throughout the hall, men unsure of whether to clap or cry themselves and ladies not yet over bawling out tears. Rhaegar bowed gracefully to the audience with even his departure not immediately disturbing the silence till a loud shriek erupted from the Northern ward, a fight between the stark sibling that he cared not much to pay much attention as to as much as he did to Rhaegar's smile at the Lady Lyanna _again_, a slow pit of jealously couldn't help but rise inside Jon as he led the slightly delayed applause that thankfully drowned out the bickering of those children.

Lord Whent made a beeline towards the Prince as the first of many admirers, working his way towards giving the sweetest compliments to the prince, how his voice had almost made Harrenhal forget it's terrible gloom!... on and on he went and Jon's innate stormlander spirit couldn't help but sneer at the flowery language, at the duplicity of lords who would say one thing to your face and another behind your back, weak as they were to back words with steel. Lords Paramount too gave compliments to his prince, the blasted lady stark profusely thanking Rhaegar for that performance, Jon then had to take an explosive breath in when the prince replied in kind with a kiss to the lady hand, not noticing his 'dear' cousin Robert flashing a look of pure rage at him for a moment.

That was all for the day, the joust would start a couple of days later while tomorrow would be the lesser games. The forty-seven course dinner had done Jon in and he wished for nothing than a soft bed to lie down in, it would have had been a good end to the day, if not for the sudden commotion at the far end of the gates, horns sounded amid general confusion as the guests who had departed to their chambers were now bustling out with the late remaining drunkards not helping with their stumbling, an unwilling Jon was pressed in to the mass of men and women as he was roughly bustled out of the hall as the small mob made its way to the source, Rhaegar had yet to make an appearance but certainly men had been sent to alert him, Lord Walter rudely awakened from his slumber was in ill mood as he lambasted his men shrilly, "What is the disturbance? Who is it?" An answer Jon was glad to know as well just to clout the idiotic party that had presumed to make such a loud entry at the end of the bloody feast! Just as he had that thought so was it answered as – were they Mooton men at arms? - made their way to clear a path-quite roughly- allowing a small passage to form for a group of more men galloping towards them in the dark, the lack of proper light making it hard to see the culprit of the commotion.

Rhaegar and Elia has made their arrival at the head now, while Lord Whent went amidst the cluster of camps to see to the new arrivals-and bent the knee abruptly-Rhaegar was frozen in his place as a herald loudly announced, '_Make way for his Grace, King Aerys Targaryen, second of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm.'_

The scene was quite majestic to be frank as the entire cluster of camps, from high and mighty lords to lowly whores, bended their knees in submission to the man riding at the lead. It must feel good to be king

For the rest of his life, Jon Connington would remember this exact moment as the start of the troubles of his life, Rhaegar's performance being the end of spring as if with the King's arrival the start of a long, long winter. Rhaegar remained stunned in place, mouth still slightly agape in a most unroyal way, as knees bent all around him, but not _for him_. The King, oh it was strange to see the sudden changes in the man for it took Jon more than a moment to recognize this cleanly shaven, cropped and neatly dressed man in front of him, he was old aye, but ghastly he was not, so much unlike the King he'd seen before departing to Harrenhal. He forcefully made Lord Whent rise up and smiled at him in a way that made him reminisce the time when Rhaegar recounted his father as being charismatic at the start of his reign. The king carried a shortsword in a silver scabbard, the slightly drawn blade glimmered out of the scabbard as it headed towards his Prince. A sudden chill filled him at the implication, _have been caught in our plot_? But it proved wrong as the king hugged his son instead and clasped him by the shoulders later ignoring Rhaegar's hand still fallen at his sides, where he didn't really respond to the King's affectionate gesture.

The king then waved away Lord Whent blubbering apologies, _apologizing_ in return for not informing the lord of his arrival, then he turned to the crowd and announced, "My subjects, I am glad to partake in this gathering of us all, however I apologize for disturbing you so late in the night, we shall break bread together come morn, but for now I shall bid you all night as it is nearly the hour of the bat."

And just like that he left with Lord Whent showing him to his Kingly Quarters, the Whent lord's own chambers that is, leaving everyone else in shock, Rhaegar retreated with his wife, but not before looking at Jon in horror, the implication behind his expression clear.

It truly was a horrible investment.


End file.
